


Storm Break

by NowThatWereDone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluff and Humor, Romance, Sexual Tension, Stranded, Trapped, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10017851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowThatWereDone/pseuds/NowThatWereDone
Summary: It was Stiles's idea, and that was why it was so unexpected for it all to go so awry./ Or, everyone is trapped in a motel during spring break because of a storm and hilarity/drama/romance ensues. *rewrite*





	1. Chapter 1: In Which Stiles Makes a Plan

**Author's Note:**

> As you might've seen, this is a re-write of a fanfic I had up here a while ago. Just felt like revamping it. Feel free to follow the tumblr I have for this fic. It will have trailers, character images, asks, sneak peeks, extras, etc. 
> 
> https://twstormbreak.tumblr.com/
> 
> That's all! Enjoy!

 

All things considered, Scott McCall hadn’t exactly anticipated waking up with someone that morning. He’d taken all the necessary precautions to avoid such a predicament; he’d only taken one shot at the lacrosse party, he’d tried to keep himself glued to Stiles’s side all night… He’d even taken to following Liam the Freshman around when Stiles went missing. And yet somehow his overactive hormones had gotten him in trouble yet again.

That particular Saturday trouble took the form of a certain Malia Hale. Scott stared down at the sleeping female, studying her uncharacteristically peaceful expression, at the way her lips, pink and a little swollen, sat in a relaxed ‘o’. He imagined that another guy might’ve been tempted to kiss her, maybe let their eyes travel down her impressive length. But Scott…

Scott shifted. Detangling his legs from her paisley comforter was a task that took more time than one might think, and Scott didn’t have time to waste. It was Saturday, yeah, but Scott had things to do, people to see. At least, that was how he rationalized how frantically he tried freeing himself before searching the room for his scattered clothes. Scott could imagine the dubious look Stiles would give him if he were there, too.

But dealing with the real reason he was hurrying out—dealing with the real reason he’d entertained Malia in the first place—was subject material a little too heavy for a Saturday (or Sunday or Monday or Tuesday….). Instead, Scott focused on trying to find his underwear. Where the hell _were_ they, anyway? And what the hell did Scott and Malia do yesterday that they weren’t resting obediently by the foot of her bed like a good pair of boxer-briefs?

“Morning, McCall.” _Crap_. Scott jumped, crashing into Malia’s dresser and sending her pencil holder to the floor. Malia watched with unimpressed eyes as the various pens and pencils scattered across the hardwood. Scott stared, too, biting his lip and wishing for all the world that he had super speed or invisibility or _something_ that could get him out of that moment in time _as quickly as possible._ “…So I take it you aren’t staying for breakfast?”

The sarcasm in her voice was apparent.

“Well…” Scott looked back down at the pencils. He wanted to bend over and pick them up, he really did… But the draft he felt on his behind kept him in his position, half turned from Malia’s level eyes, half exposed. He didn’t want to make any sudden movements. _She saw you naked yesterday, Idiot_ , the reasonable part of Scott supplied. But yesterday they’d been in the dark and intoxicated and—

“I assume you were trying to find those?” Scott blinked, staring at the finger Malia pointed upwards before craning his neck to follow the path she’d pointed out. His brow twitched in annoyance. _You have got to be kidding me_. Somehow, in the middle of hooking up with the dirty blonde, he’d actually _thrown his underwear onto her ceiling fan._

“Uh…” Scott stared at the grey fabric, at how it hung lazily on the white fan blade. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s whatever.” And he knew she meant it. Nothing really ruffled Malia; she was unusually steady, hardly ever at a loss for words. That might’ve been why, when Scott approached her yesterday with the intent to bed her, she didn’t bat an eyelash or back down on fear. In her mind, she’d probably rationalized it as the two of them acting on a mutual physical attraction and nothing more. Which, yeah, had kind of been true, but…

But that wasn’t how Scott did things.

How he _used_ to do things.

“I’ve got a test at one.” Malia’s voice, solid and anchoring, dragged Scott back to reality. “You can chill here if you want, but stay out of my way. I can’t afford to re-schedule this. Got plans for the break, y’know?” And with that dismissive statement, Malia slid from her bed. She didn’t bother grabbing anything to cover her nude body, instead going to her closet, grabbing a t-shirt and shower shoes, before walking out of her room to her bathroom.

… _Well then._

Scott didn’t waste time. He jumped onto Malia’s bed and, with one sprightly bound, retrieved his boxer briefs. He didn’t waste time celebrating, instead going to find the rest of his clothes before dressing up, shoving his feet into his Timberlands, and rushing out of room 4D and away from his latest slip up.

As he rushed down the hall and towards the back stairs, Scott glanced at his phone screen. _10:32._ Hm. Before noon. Perhaps Stiles was still asleep. Perhaps Scott could actually get away with this—

“ _Oh!”_ One second, Scott had been barreling around a corner, and the next, he’d ran into someone. Thanks to lacrosse workouts and his naturally thick-chested build, Scott was fortified enough to not end up falling over himself. The other person wasn’t so lucky.

“I’m so sorry!” The apology stumbled out of Scott’s mouth instinctively. “I didn’t even see you, I shouldn’t have been going so fast.”

“It’s okay,” the girl on the floor said, taking Scott’s outstretched hand with one of her own as she adjusted her maroon Beacon Hills University hat with the other. “I shouldn’t have been so easy to push over.” There was something very familiar about the girl’s voice, but Scott didn’t stop to look at her, instead bending over to gather her fallen items as she dusted herself off.

“No, seriously,” Scott continued, “I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings…” As he scooped up her books, Scott noted that something—a small rectangular something—slid from one of the book’s pages. Without thinking, he reached to pick it up, his eyes immediately roving over its surface to see whether the small something was important or not.

_D.O.B.: 01-01-2000_ _EXP: 01-01-2020_

_ALLISON ARGENT._

Scott’s eyes hiccuped.

Allison Argent. _Allison Argent. **Allison-fucking-Argent.**_ Scott’s head whipped around to face the girl he’d mowed down. _Oh, God, oh God, oh God..._ Half of her face was covered in a BHU hat, but from his crouched position, Scott could look up and see those unmistakable brown eyes, the pert nose, the angled face. The face of Allison Argent. Allison-freaking-Argent.

*

By the time Scott made it back to his own apartment building, Stiles was wide awake. _This really isn’t my day, is it?_ Scott hovered in the doorway of their apartment, watching as Stiles spooned cereal into his mouth as he watched the latest episode of _How To Get Away With Murder._ Generally, when Stiles watched HTGAWM, he entered a trance-like state; he couldn’t be moved, talked to, or bothered. For forty minutes, it was all about Annalise Keating and the various adventures of her and her cohorts.

So maybe Scott could sneak by without getting grilled.

He eased the door closed behind him. Stiles’s jaw chewed on mechanically, his eyes never leaving their TV. _So far so good._ Scott placed his keys on the hook by their closet.

“ _Connor, what the hell_!?” Stiles shouted at the TV. Still immersed. Still unaware. _I just might be in the clear._ Scott took silent, steady steps towards his room, which stood just down the hallway. Just a few feet away. If he didn’t look Stiles’s way, if he didn’t make any ostentatious movements, if he didn’t draw attention to himself… “Scott, don’t think I didn’t see you walk in here just now.”

Damn it.

Braced for anything, Scott turned to face his best friend. As he’d imagined, Stiles wore the most unimpressed facial expression, complete with pursed lips and a lone, cocked eyebrow. _Ah, geez…_ Maybe Scott should’ve hung out at Malia’s a little bit longer.

“Who was it this time?” Stiles asked. Scott rolled his weight onto his ankles.

“…Malia.” Stiles blinked.

“Malia _Hale?_ As in the cousin to my ex Malia Hale? As in Derek’s cousin Malia Hale?” Scott scratched the back of his neck.

“…Yeah?” A moment of silence passed between the two young men.

Scott knew what was coming. Every time he’d come back, having found his way into another girl’s bed, Stiles would give him The Talk. The ‘Are You Sure You’re Okay?’ talk. The ‘Are You Sure You Don’t Want to Talk?’ talk. The Talk that Scott really didn’t want to have. Like ever. So, in order to stave away the unwanted questions, Scott decided to bring up a new point of interest.

“I ran into Allison.” Stiles’s whiskey colored eyes brightened in intrigue.

“ _Allison_?” Stiles reached over to tap the space-bar on his laptop, pausing the live stream that connected to the TV. “Did you talk to her or just moon at her from a distance?” Her wide brown eyes filled Scott’s mind.

“Well, uh, I didn’t really talk to her too much…”

“Mooned from a distance, got it.”

“ _No_ ,” Scott hated to admit that this was a common occurrence. “I just kind of ran into her.”

“Ran into her like saying ‘hey’ or ran into her like tackled her?”

“ _Stiles_.”

“What?” Stiles asked, raising his hands in innocence. “I’m just trying to get clarity!” Scott rolled his eyes as he walked towards their living room, sliding his lacrosse jacket off his shoulders as he went.

“I ran into her. Literally. I was helping her pick up her stuff. I didn’t even know it was her until I picked up her driver’s license.” Stiles nodded in understanding, scooting to the left so Scott could take a seat on their couch. “Didn’t even recognize her before then. She was wearing a hat so I couldn’t see her face.”

“Understandable,” Stiles mused. “So after that, what did you do? Talk to her? Ask her to get coffee to make up for taking her down?” That actually didn’t sound like such a bad idea… Too bad Scott hadn’t thought of it. Apparently, his irritation was visible. “Geez, Scott, what is it with this girl that makes you forget everything about having game, Dude?” That was a really good question.

What was so special about Allison Argent? Aside from her bright smile, the way she spoke, the sharp way she moved, how intelligent she was, how well she'd look in Scott's lacrosse jersey...

He could go on.

Unfortunately, all of the things that made Scott’s skin tingle whenever the willowy brunette entered his mind also made his tongue swell and his heart race and everything he knew about talking to women flew out of his head. Which was really not good considering the type of guy Scott was now.

“Out of curiosity,” Stiles began, “what exactly are your intentions with Allison?” That was another good question. Before college, Scott had been what most people would refer to as a ‘hopeless romantic’. He was dopey and believed in the good in everyone and just wanted to find the one girl who he would fall in love with and eventually marry and have 2.5 kids with…

And then freshman year happened and all of the fairy tales went down the drain. The idea of commitment made Scott’s stomach churn. Thinking of actually putting trust in anyone besides his Mom and Stiles had his skin crawling. He still liked people, yeah, and he always wanted to do what was right and be a good person. Just a guarded person. A careful person.

A person who might’ve found comfort in copulation.

“I… don’t really know,” Scott admitted. “I just… like her.”

“I can see that,” Stiles said, his lips twitching upward as he spoke. “I just want to know if she’s someone you’d consider getting serious with.” The mere thought sent a shiver down Scott’s spine. “Or not.” And, in a weird turn of events, that thought wasn’t any more comforting.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t ever want to be with her,” Scott rushed to say (he didn’t know why it felt very important that he made Stiles understand the mess of his feelings, but it was). “It’s just that, well…” Scott’s eyes fell to his shoes. They were scuffed and noticeably worn. Had Allison noticed? “I don’t think a girl like that would want anything to do with me. I don’t even know how to begin talking to her.”

“Clearly.” Scott glared up at Stiles. “Sorry, I’m not helping, am I?” Scott let his gaze wander again, this time dropping to his phone. Unsurprisingly, Malia hadn’t texted him. That was good. Scott really didn’t need to re-live that tryst. Unfortunately, another girl had. Sydney. She was in his organic chemistry class and she’d apparently thought that, even though Scott had told her he wasn’t a relationship type, she could force him into it.

Sydney was nice.

But she wasn’t Allison ( _not that I’d date Allison, not that I’d not-_ not _date Allison, not that I—)._

“You know,” Stiles spoke up again, interrupting Scott’s mental stewing. “If you really like this girl, I could see if I can figure out a way to get you two together.” Scott blinked.

“You can?” At the question, Stiles scoffed before giving his own chest one, powerful smack.

“Dude. I’m Stiles Stilinski. The Man with the Plans!”

“Stiles, last time you planned something, Coach made us do bear crawls for forty five minutes.”

“I bet your abs looked great the next day, though, right?” Scott rolled his eyes. “And those bear crawls were totally worth it. Hell Night is now an annual thing on this campus, thanks to moi.” Stiles proceeded to take a proud bite of his cereal before retching and dropping his bowl on their coffee table. “My cereal is soggy!”

“We have been talking for a while…”

“Man. That’s a whole meal down the drain.” Anyway. “Where were we?”

“You wanted to come up with a plan to get me and Allison together,” Scott offered.

“Right. I can totally help you out, Dude. Allison is friends with Lydia, after all.” Scott blinked.

“Doesn’t Lydia hate you?”

“Hate me? What do you mean? Lydia loves me.” Scott was pretty sure the last time Stiles and Lydia it had ended in a screaming match. This mostly had to do with the fact that, while Scott enjoyed Stiles’s sarcasm and wit, many did not. Lydia Martin was included in that many, though the dislike turned into something a little more exaggerated when Stiles bested her in a debate.

“So you’re going to talk to Lydia about how I can get to know Allison?” Scott asked.

“Yes,” Stiles said. “I think this will be good for you. Both of you. You get to open up to somebody again and potentially date someone who looks like a supermodel and Allison…” Stiles paused, rubbing his chin. “Well, I mean, I guess the crooked jaw thing is kind of cool…” Scott swatted at Stiles then, who merely laughed joyfully as he hopped out of his friend’s reach.

After a brief chase which resulted in Scott tackling Stiles and forcing him to take back the chin comment by use of wet willies (Stiles muttered something under his breath immediately after, but it was Stiles so lip was unavoidable), the two men settled down enough for Stiles to say, “but seriously, Scotty. I’ve got you.” Scott didn’t say anything, but his silence was telling. “Come on, man. Look, spring break is coming up. What better way to get to know Allison than hanging out with her then?”

“That sounds an awful lot like stalking.”

“It’s not.” … “It’s _not_.” Stiles frowned as he procured his phone from his sweat pants’ pocket. “I can just ask Lydia if we can go with them or something. We could, like, road trip or whatever.”

“Again; doesn’t Lydia hate you?”

“Again; _no_ ,” Stiles muttered as he typed furiously on his screen. After a few seconds of quick tapping, the mole ridden boy smiled up at Scott. “Done.” Something like a block of ice sat firmly in the center of Scott’s stomach.

“Done?” Was that fear creeping into his voice? “Wh-what did you say exactly?” If Stiles had made him sound like a lovesick puppy, Scott was transferring.

“Relax, Scott, I—” A bright _ping_ interrupted Stiles’s sentence. His eyes went back to his phone and, in another flurry of finger movements, he sent something else out.

_Ping!_

Taptaptaptaptap.

_Ping!_

Taptaptap-tap-tap-taptaptaptaptap.

_Ping! Ping!_

Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptapta—

“What’s she saying?” That was definitely fear in his voice. Maybe a little panic. Definitely anxiety and possibly last night’s supper making its way back up his digestive tract. Stiles just smiled at Scott before turning his phone screen towards his best friend.

“Told you I got this,” Stiles said. Scott barely heard that statement, as his attention zeroed in on the last message Lydia had sent.

_Yeah, we’re going to Jackson’s beach house. Car’s full, though. See you there?_

Stiles had really done it. He’d found an opportunity. Scott turned to face the preening Stiles. Stiles turned to (smugly) face Scott.

“Stiles, have I ever told you that you’re my best friend?”

“Yeah, you have. From here on out, I’d prefer to be known as your soul brother, though.”

“…Okay, never mind, gratitude recanted.”

“Nope, I’m your soul brother now. Say it with me. _Soul brother_.” And Stiles’s and Scott’s day continued much like it usually did, the two students completely unaware of what was coming their way.

 

 

 


	2. In Which Allison Runs Into Scott (Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uh….” He seemed at a loss for words as he stared at her, his hands still wrapped around her biceps, his body still pressed against hers.
> 
> “Uh,” Allison said back, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “We’ve really got to stop meeting like this, Scott.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story picks up next chapter because that'll be when the plot thickens! Also might write longer chapters so you guys can see more happen in each installment. Hope you're enjoying what you read!! And check the tumblr for videos and things! :)
> 
> https://twstormbreak.tumblr.com/

In approximately twelve hours, Allison and Lydia would be driving across the coastline to get to Jackson’s beach house (or mansion or mini-hotel, whatever was the most accurate description of the large structure that housed one of BHU’s most notorious events). In approximately twelve hours, Allison could forget about depositions and affidavits and subpoenas. This week was going to be about nothing but partying, swim suits, and getting a much-needed tan. This week was going to be amazing.

Allison just had to get through this final lacrosse game.

Now contrary to popular belief, Allison Argent did _not_ hate lacrosse. She just… didn’t particularly like it. This mostly had to do with the fact that she’d attended college in Texas first. Naturally, that school had been a football school through and through. Even before that, Allison had lived in states that bled pigskin and turf, tackling and touchdowns. So switching from that sport to this one was, well…

But Allison tried. She really, truly did try. She tried emulating the same amount of cheer as the crowd around her by clapping her hands above her head and jumping up and down when they did. This didn’t make Allison’s feelings any more genuine nor did it make her feel like any less of a traitor.

This wasn’t football.

This wasn’t a _sport_.

Lydia’s eyes, once focused on the field, cut to her friend, the green irises sharpened in attention.

“Are you thinking down on lacrosse again?” Allison’s cheeks rogued as her eyes drifted to focus on the lone girl on the BHU team whizzing down the field like a fox.

“Nope.”

“Allison…” Lydia pressed. Sometimes, Allison suspected Lydia was a psychic. Sure as hell acted like it.

“Okay,” Allison sighed, “maybe a little bit.” But who could blame her? It was _lacrosse._ It was a game played by dude-bros and frat boys, both of which wore backwards caps with popped-collar polos and pastel colored shorts.

“Look, Allison, I love you. But you don’t go to school in the south anymore. Football is dead. Lacrosse is the new thing.” No and no. Allison could not accept that kind of blasphemy. “Allison. please remove your hands from your ears. You look ridiculous.”

“And so does this game, It’s hockey minus the ice."

“No, it’s not.” Allison’s frown didn’t waver. “Maybe if you cheered for the players with a little more heart, you wouldn’t down on lacrosse so much. Like, uh…” Lydia’s eyes scanned the field. “Oh! Look, there goes Boyd! We know Boyd! We were all in biology together, remember?” Allison did remember. She liked Boyd. He was nice (and didn’t pop his collar). She could cheer for him.

Not that it helped. Lacrosse wasn’t a cake walk. Half of the time, Allison just watched the game in a state of confusion. This probably explained the immense relief that settled over her when Number Eleven swung in the last goal of the game, earning BHU yet another victory. Allison even managed to let out one, exuberant shout as the lacrosse team let out a raucous shout of celebration. They swarmed Number Eleven which apparently signaled the crowd to rush the field and swarm the players as well.

Allison stood, confused, as the BHU students jumped the barriers and barreled down the field. Even Lydia, in her six inch heels, joined the frenzy with a gleeful grin, easily scaling the fence and entering the mass of celebrating students. Allison wasn’t sure if she should follow after Lydia at first, but quickly made up her mind when Lydia’s fiery hair disappeared in the crowd. Into the fray she went.

By the time Allison made it down the stairs and teetered over the security rail, though, the mass of people had already begun the procession towards the indoor facility. A flash of strawberry blonde hair could be seen whipping in the crowd every few seconds, appearing deeper and deeper in the throng of bodies each time it was visible. Allison groaned and marched after them.

As soon as Allison pushed inside of the squat building, she was met by a wall of warm, electric air. The energy from outside had clearly reached an all-time high inside. Students chanted the school song in a joyous thunder, throwing their arms around one another and giddily bouncing around as if this was the best day of their lives.

Allison wondered if this excitement was really because of the win or if some of the students had already started drinking in celebration of the coming break. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, a shirtless man bolted passed Allison, flailing his arms and moving his body in a way a little too fluid for a sober person. _Guess that’s my answer,_ Allison thought with a smirk.

And as amusing as that was, it was time to find Lydia. The humidity and BO of the indoor facility was starting to make Allison itch.

“Lydia?” the brunette called as she pushed through the press of bodies. “Lydia?” She wasn’t sure if her shouts carried over the noise. As it were there was a mix of voices calling out in search of someone else. So Lydia’s name merely joined the cacophony, blending with it until it all became an unrecognizable mess. Still, Allison tried.

“Lydia,” she crowed again.

“Derek!” Someone’s voice came from behind her.

“Liam!” This one came from her right.

“ _Stiles! Stiles, where are you_?” Allison didn’t have time to stop walking before she ran into the last speaker, her nose ramming into his shoulder pad. Before she could fall over, however, the person grabbed onto her arms, steadied her. Of course, this meant that she in turn stumbled into him, her chest colliding with his own. Allison looked up, blinking. She was so close to the guy, she could clearly see the face behind the gladiator-like helmet.

She knew the face.

“Uh….” He seemed at a loss for words as he stared at her, his hands still wrapped around her biceps, his body still pressed against hers.

“Uh,” Allison said back, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “We’ve really got to stop meeting like this, Scott.” The sentence seemed to jar him into animation. Scott dropped his arms heavily and took as big of a step back as he could considering how packed the place was. Allison’s smile grew at his behavior. Why did he always act so strange around her? This was the same guy who sweet talked his way into Braeden’s pants at the beginning of the semester. _Braeden!_ She was a whole year above them!

Besides Braeden, Allison knew Scott had had a thing with multiple other girls; Heather, Sydney, Kira, and, most recently, Malia. Before Allison had transferred to Beacon Hills, apparently Scott had even had a thing with _Lydia_. And, while that did make Allison a little bit wary of him, everyone he’d encountered said the same thing:

Scott McCall was a nice guy. Didn’t do relationships. But he was _nice_. Was always willing to talk to people about their problems. Didn’t mind doing favors for people. Was super social.

But every time Allison and Scott were in a room together, all of that disappeared. He clammed up around her, avoided making eye contact. The other day when she’d ran into him at her dorm building, he’d basically thrown her books back at her and sprinted away when he realized who he’d ran into. Allison was beginning to think that he just didn’t like her.

Maybe it was because she kept bumping into him….

_Note; Scott is still staring at you and doesn’t look like he’ll say anything to break the silence. Act now._

“Um…” Allison clasped her arms behind her back, her eyes dipping enough to catch the two big ones printed on Scott’s jersey. “You’re number eleven?” Cue robotic nod. “Oh, wow! You did great out there, Scott.”

“You too.” Huh? Scott seemed to realize what he’d said. “Oh. Um…” Scott looked at a loss for words. Again.

“No, no, you’re right,” Allison said with a smile. “I did do great, didn’t I? I went from Go-Team-Go to the Cyclone chant without breaking a sweat.” Scott blinked at her. He seemed tense. Stiff. Did Allison smell bad or something? But then, how could he even _tell_? _He_ probably smelled bad considering he’d just been out on the field… And why did Allison care? Sure, Scott was cute and apparently nice and athletic and smart, but he was a player. Letting his puppy dog eyes bewitch her was the same as getting an express ticket to heartbreak hotel.

_Speaking of hotels…_

“Well, I gotta go—”

“Are you going to Jackson’s thing?” They’d spoken at the same time and both of them blinked at the other in nervous wait. “Um…”

“Go ahead,” Scott implored.

“No, no,” Allison protested, “you can go first.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” _Okay then_.

“I just wanted to know if I would be seeing you at Jackson’s thing? The beach party, I mean. Everyone is invited, I think. I mean, I know you and Jackson don’t have the best history…” Allison bit her lip. _Way to sound like a stalker._ “I didn’t sneak around to find that out. Lydia told me. Not that I asked. Not that she talks about you. Well, I mean, I guess she does or else I wouldn’t know about you guys and...” Allison blinked at the small smile Scott gave her (was he laughing at her?). “Um… I’m going to stop talking. That was word vomit, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Scott said, but his eyes were shifting away from her. Maybe he was looking for his next conquest. “I’m going.” He kept looking away. He definitely wasn’t interested in what she had to say. Must’ve really not liked her.

“Cool,” Allison heard herself say anyway. “Maybe I’ll see you there?” Scott offered a tight smile.

“Yeah, maybe.” And then he walked away quickly, just like he’d done earlier that day, just like he’d done every other time before.

Sheesh. What the heck had Allison _done_ to him? Before Allison could try and recall anything of any use, sharp nails dug into her arm, successfully drawing her attention to whatever demonic being was attacking her.

“Allison! There you are!” Lydia. Finally. “Did I just see you talking to Scott?”

“Well…” Kind of. “Yeah.” Lydia’s lips pursed.

“Interesting.” The shorter girl looped her arms with Allison’s and began leading her out of the building.

“Interesting?” Allison asked. “You have an issue with me talking to an ex fling of yours?”

“Obviously not,” Lydia mused as the two re-entered the warm, March night. “Scott and I weren’t serious enough for me to even think about getting jealous. Concerned though…” Lydia looked up at Allison. “I am concerned. Scott is nice and all, but we both know about his reputation.”

“We were just talking,” Allison defended herself, “I wasn’t fantasizing about having his children or whatever.”

“Scott’s good with girls,” Lydia replied with a shrug. “He might get you without you even suspecting it.” Unlikely with the way he acted. But Allison didn’t feel like admitting that to Lydia and instead decided to pursue another branch of conversation.

“So,” Allison began, letting her voice draw out. “Who’d you go see?”

“What makes you think I saw anyone?”

“Your hair looks like you brushed it since you jumped the railing,” Allison pointed out. “Plus, your lip gloss looks fresher.”

“It looked worn in the stands!?”

“Lydia.” The petite girl pouted as the two neared Allison’s parked car.

“Fine. I went to see someone. But not a special someone. Just Stiles.” Allison’s eyebrow twitched.

“As in Scott’s friend Stiles?”

“Yeah…” Lydia shrugged. “We’re in the same Cal 2 class. Open?” Lydia was talking about the car door at that point and Allison obliged, pressing the key fob button. Her car blinked in appeasement and shortly after the young women climbed inside. “Anyway.” Lydia pulled down the mirror on the passenger side, examining herself. “When do you want to start heading out for the beach? It’ll take about six hours to get there, and I think there’s supposed to be a storm rolling through Monday night.” Allison considered this as she fired up her car’s engine and pulled out of the stadium lot.

“I guess that means we should leave tomorrow. Make sure we depart early enough to avoid the rain.”

“We can leave in the evening,” Lydia suggested. “I still need to buy some spring break outfits.” Buy…? Allison thought about questioning Lydia but decided against it. Instead she focused on driving them back to their dorm, her mind wandering off to routes to the beach, what to pack, and a certain lacrosse player she really shouldn’t have been thinking about.

*

_Bzz. Bzz._

Soft snoring. A small nose twitched.

_Bzz. Bzz._

Peaceful, blissful slumber remained uninterrupted.

_Bzz-bzz. Bzz-bzz. Bzz-bzz. Bzz-b—_

An amber eye creaked open as the ‘bzz’ soundtrack finally aroused the sleeping student. A hand waved in the air, hanging there for a sleepy second before smacking down against the wooden night stand. _Come on, Stiles, you can do it._ Long fingers inched their way towards the vibrating phone, wrapped around the target. Once he’d managed that, it was quick work sliding his thumb across the touch screen to answer the phone and press the speaker phone button.

“Hello?” Stiles grumbled out, not particularly pleased of having been awoken from his much needed rest.

“ _Stiles, I sent you like eleven texts._ ” The sharpness of the voice was easily identifiable as Lydia Martin. This epiphany had Stiles sitting up at attention, all thoughts of sleep leaving his body in an instant.

“Lydia?” Stiles took his phone off of speaker and placed it against his ear. “Why on earth are you calling me at,” Stiles paused to glance at his alarm clock, “three in the morning?”

“ _The real question is why are you asleep? It’s early._ ” Yeah, maybe for the nocturnal party animal that was Lydia Martin. How she managed to go to every party whilst maintaining a perfect GPA _and_ a good amount of sleep was beyond Stiles. “ _Anyway, I have something to ask you. About that whole Scott and Allison thing_.”

“I’m listening,” Stiles replied, sliding back into the comfort of his bed. Lydia Martin really called him at three in the morning. Lydia called him. Stiles felt a rush of energy march through his veins at the mere thought.

“ _So… you asked me if I thought Allison was interested in him? And after today I’m pretty sure she is._ ” Stiles’s lips curved upward. “ _…But I don’t know how I feel about this, Stiles._ ” Said curve flattened again.

“What do you mean? Scott likes Allison, Allison likes Scott. Simple chemistry.”

“ _You and I both know chemistry, for most people, isn’t simple._ ” Hmph, well. “ _Especially not for Scott. Your friend has a commitment problem_.”

“We don’t really _know_ that.” Well, Stiles did. But Lydia didn’t need to know that. Besides, Stiles could tell that there was something different in the way that Scott regarded Allison. He knew, he just _knew,_ that putting them together would only benefit them both. He just had to convince Lydia to be on his side. “Scott likes her, Lyd. Like more than just a one night stand.”

“ _Wonderful_.”

“You know what I mean. I think Scott might actually have feelings for her.”

“ _He hardly knows her_ ,” Lydia countered.  

“So is there really an issue with helping him take advantage of an opportunity to do so?” Stiles asked. “Come on, Lydia, don’t make me beg.”

“ _Actually I’m imagining you begging now. It’s not a bad sight…._ ”

“Lydia.”

“ _Okay, okay._ ” Hm? Had Stiles convinced her? “ _Allison and I are heading to the house in the evening today. If you leave around the same time, we can all be at the house early and maybe we can go out and eat or something. Bond. Whatever._ ” Stiles’s grin was back and bigger than before. “ _You’re cheesing hard right now, aren’t you_?”

“Yes, I am because you, Lydia Martin, are the best.” He imagined the girl tossing her hair over her shoulder in a preening manner.

“ _Well, I mean I already knew that._ ” A beat passed.

“…So, um, how are you—”

“ _Good night, Stiles_.” And, just like that, she hung up. Stiles pouted at the ‘call ended’ screen on his phone before dropping the device on his night stand and burying himself into his sheets.

_Next time, Stilinski. Next time._


	3. In Which A Storm Rolls Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One rain drop,” Stiles said, “that doesn’t mean—”
> 
> Two more joined their friend on Stiles’s car. Scott raised his brows. Stiles opened his mouth to further defend himself. He was interrupted, however, by two more rain drops, then four more, than eight more, than it was very hard to see through the never ending shower slamming into the glass.
> 
> It had started raining. Hard.
> 
> Scott opened his mouth to say something.
> 
> “Shut up, I don’t want to hear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while but hopefully a long update makes up for it?

"…Do you think Roscoe’s going to make it all the way to the beach?”

"Of _course_.” Stiles scoffed. “This jeep will never let me down." Scott peered his head around the car hood he held up to furrow his brow at Stiles, who –instead of meeting Scott’s exasperated stare— focused on duct taping the engine. "Okay, maybe there was that time senior year when it got us stranded in Mexico."

"And the time it broke down on the way to my interview. And the time the battery died even after we replaced it with a new time. And there was the time that-- "

"Okay, you know what, whenever you provide us with a loyal car, maybe then I'd be okay with you shitting on mine. Until then, put the proverbial sock in it." Scott chuckled at Stiles's frazzled state, but instead of arguing any more, slammed the hood of the car shut.

“Fair enough.”

The two young men stood back, considering the blue vehicle and the journey they were about to take. Scott’s mind kept wandering back to Allison and how much he shouldn’t have been thinking of her smile. Stiles was wondering if Roscoe really would let them down or not. The silence permeated between the two for a moment before—suddenly—a bright _ping_ brought them back from their mental stewing.

“Was that mine?” Scott mused, patting at his shorts’ pocket.

“Nope,” Stiles answered, procuring his cell phone from his hoodie, “mine.” He planned to ignore whoever had texted him, but when he saw the contact name, his heart nearly beat out of his chest and he hurriedly unlocked his phone to view the message in it’s entirety.

_Stiles, Allison and I are heading out. See you._

He wasn’t exactly surprised that Lydia had texted him—she had this weird thing where she’d text him for calculus help, not knowing that Stiles knew she wasn’t nearly as vapid as she liked pretending to be—but that short ‘see you’ with the cutesy smiling emoji tacked on at the end did make his heart jump a little bit. Lydia made it a point to not flirt with Stiles, especially after—

“Who’s that?” Scott asked.

In a show of maximum maturity and suave mannerisms, Stiles squawked. Actually squawked. Like a freaking chicken. _If you’re wondering why Lydia doesn’t like you, Stilinski, this is why, this is exactly why._ Not wanting to dwell on the embarrassing arm-flailing-bird-calling-whatever-the-fuck he’d just done, Stiles straightened up and turned to Scott to answer. Predictably, Scott was regarding him with some concern.

“Uh… no one.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “I mean, uh, Malia. She was asking about… you.” Stiles silently apologized to Malia as he lied, but it was necessary. Scott twitched, visibly repulsed by the idea of someone caring about him and, with his shoulders at his ears, started for the passenger side door of Stiles’s car.

“Oh,” Scott was saying as he walked, “uh, tell her I, uh, said hi.” The ‘hi’ was partially cut off by the sound of the car door slamming behind Scott. Sheesh. Scott really did have commitment issues. Hopefully, though, this trip would fix that. Stiles typed a little ‘ _Sure thing!’_ with an equally as cute smiley face for Lydia and made his way to the driver’s side himself. As he settled into his seat, he noticed that Scott was eyeing the large cartons tucked away in the back seat.

"Is this... food?" Scott asked. Stiles shrugged, reaching for his seat belt.

"Well, I kind of figured Jackson wouldn't be generous enough to feed us during this stay, so might as well bring some snacks down.”

“Huh,” Scott mused. There was some rustling noises, probably Scott rifling through the nearest box. “Eggo waffles?” Scott asked, twisting back around in his seat to hold up the bright yellow box.

“Naturally,” Stiles responded. “I've got it all. Waffles, pop-tarts, pancake batter, oatmeal, popcorn, Gatorade, candy--"

"You think of everything, don't you?" Scott mused, gently placing his duffle bag amongst the mountain of food. Stiles started his engine, snorting a bit.

"Of course. That's why I'm the planner of this duo. Leave it to me, Scotty. By the end of this week, you will be properly fed and on great terms with Allison." Scott didn't think so after the way he'd pretty much sprinted away from her at the game, but he chose not to bring that little incident up. His ego was still healing after all.

"You really think this will work?" Scott asked. "Allison is… well, _Allison_."

"True," Stiles said, pulling out of the campus parking garage (carefully, because the parking garage was also the place where some people liked to practice their drag racing skills). "But I have faith in this, Scott. I really do.” Plus, if things worked out, Scott would maybe be able to move on from the whole Jennifer thing…

“Huh.” Scott eyed the windshield and sunk into the car seat. “Interesting.” This was the universal sign for Scott falling into a chasm of self-deprecating thoughts and Stiles tried thinking of something to distract him.

“Did you know Danny is going out with Ethan?”

“That’s nice.” O-kay, that hadn’t worked at all. As Stiles drove down the university road, he tried thinking of something a little better.

“Uh,” he started, “I heard Jackson got a bad grade on his Chem test. Maybe now he’ll drop the class and stop shooting death glares at us.”

“Heh.” This was not good.

“Scott,” Stiles began, as he slowed to a stop at a red light. This gave him time to glance at his best friend who looked, for all intents and purposes, as though he were trying to sink into his t-shirt. “ _Scott_.”

“Hm?” Scott made an effort to sound bright and cheery, but Stiles had known Scott since birth and there was no way he couldn’t hear through that façade.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothin’.”

“Scott…” A brief pause took place as the light turned green and Stiles’s jeep chugged into motion. Stiles thought about how to proceed, knowing he was treading into dangerous territory. He knew that, in this state, Scott would physically and verbally reject any attempts at attacking the _real_ issue. But his previous distractions weren’t successful. “Scott,” Stiles repeated, “you’re my best friend. You can talk to me, you know that.”

“I do.” Another pause. Then, Scott sighed. “I just… don’t know about this. Allison is… good. I’m…. I’m not.” This was coming from the guy who had once bought a homeless man lunch even though he’d had less than ten dollars in his own account, the guy who went to the nearby elementary school and read animal books to first graders… If Scott McCall wasn’t a good person, then everyone on earth must’ve been satanic.  

“How are you not a good person?” Stiles asked. It’d be better to humor Scott, hear where his thoughts were going. The young man played with his fingers and shrugged.

“It’s not that I’m bad, I’m just… not good for her. There’s a lot going on up here. A lot of bad stuff.” This was more than Scott usually admitted. Trying to mask his worry, Stiles kept his eyes glued to the road.

“What do you mean by that?”

“A girl like her shouldn’t have to deal with my issues.”

“You mean freshman year?”

“Freshman year… my dad… all of that.” Scott shrugged. “I’d just be weighing her down. I should just let this crush-or-whatever go.” Stiles pressed his lips together. Before, Stiles had assumed Scott just didn’t trust people, which was a big enough problem on its own. But if he viewed himself in such a way…

“Scott, my mom is dead.” Scott sat up at the sudden remark, his eyes widening. “You already knew,” Stiles muttered, trying to fight the instinctual tensing of his body whenever he remembered his mother’s death. “I’m just repeating it because… because you know that whole time period brought about a whole bunch of other shit that kind of made me… unstable?” Stiles wasn’t sure if that was the right word, but he didn’t stop to correct it. “I wasn’t doing well. I was having night terrors and panic attacks and acting out… and at that time, I might’ve thought that her death was my fault, like I was a bad person.”

“But it wasn’t,” Scott said, like always.

“I know,” Stiles responded. “And you know, you were the one who told me that when I needed to hear it the most. You were there for me, Scott. If it wasn’t for you and my dad and Melissa…” Stiles shook his head. If it hadn’t been for them, Stiles might not have made it to twenty-one. Scott sat silently, absorbing Stiles’s words with a somber expression on his face. It was certainly some heavy conversation considering where they were headed. Stiles cleared his throat and sat up in his chair. “And, uh, you know. Adderall helped, too.” Scott’s eyes narrowed.

“You hated taking Adderall.”

“True. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“By lying?”

“Yes. What else do you expect from me? I’m a master of deceit.”

“…Was that a World of Warlords reference?” Stiles grinned.

“How could you tell?”

“You used a British accent and your eyebrows did that ‘wizard thing’.”

“Nice catch, Scotty.” And the two drove on, chattering about happy things and funny things and anything to keep the mood light and fun and spring break-y. Because, yes, there were things that needed to be talked about. But maybe not tonight.

*

            There were few things more irritating than sitting idly at a stop light. In the moment, Lydia couldn’t pull any to mind, so instead of trying to see the bright side of her situation, the petite student impatiently tapped her thumb against the steering wheel, glaring up at the red light above her. Allison seemed more or less calm, typing away at her phone as she bobbed her head to the music playing on the radio. Lydia stewed in silence for a few seconds, groaned, and switched off the radio. Allison pouted.

“Hey!” the brunette protested, lips stuck out, “I was enjoying that.”

“Sorry,” Lydia apologized, mostly sincere. “I’m just irritated that this light is _still_ red.”

“So you make _me_ irritated in retaliation?” Well, yeah… If Lydia was going to suffer, shouldn’t someone be suffering with her? Wow, that actually sounded really selfish… Oh, wait.

“Allison,” Lydia mused, eyes dipping down to stare at the girl’s shirt. “Stain.” Allison blinked, then looked down at her white tank top.

“Aw _man,”_ Allison hissed. “When did this happen?”

“Probably when you were eating your way through that diabetes-on-a-cone thirty minutes ago.” Lydia didn’t even have to look to know that Allison was glaring. “Sorry.”

“It’s whatever. You still have an emergency shirt in the back seat?” Lydia scoffed. _One_ shirt? What kind of amateur did Allison think she was?

“I have four—one for warm days, one for hot days, one for chilly days, one for cold days. There’s four more in the trunk.” Allison hummed in understanding as she reached back to grab one. “…Are you changing right now?” Allison plopped back in the passenger seat, pink crop top in hand.

“Yeah, why not?” Allison asked. “I don’t want to pull up to Jackson’s beach house with a stain and we’re alone on this road anyway. I’m good.” And, without further explanation, Allison pulled off her shirt. Lydia’s eyes veered skyward at the sight of the pale white skin.

“You didn’t want to wear a bra?”

“Bras were created to oppress women.”

“Yeah, and to hold up the goods,” Lydia muttered. She certainly had no issues with women forgoing bras… She _was_ a little bitter that _she_ couldn’t do it as often considering that her chest was considerably fuller than many, but whatever. As Allison straightened out the shirt she planned to wear, a noise sounded that had Lydia’s skin crawling. Allison ducked, pressing her chest to her knees.

“Is a car coming?”

A blue jeep came before Lydia could do anything—speeding until it came to the stop light, where it skidded to a grinding halt. Lydia peered into the car beside her. Then she proceeded to freak out.

“Stiles and Scott,” she said, “ _Stiles and Scott_.” Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap---

“What do I do?” Allison cried, still chest-to-thigh in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know!” Lydia cried back. “But I don’t think they know we’re here.” In true perfect timing, Stiles seemed to notice there was a car besides his and turned head to look at them. Their eyes connected for a moment, green against hazel. Then, his shifted. _Crap._ Nervously, Lydia glanced over at Allison, who was still hiding as best as she could (though considering her back practically shone in the dark car, this was a moot point).

“Oh my _gosh_ ,” Allison whined, turning to look out of the window as best she could from her position. Sure enough, Scott had decided to glance towards them as well.

“The light is red,” Lydia pointed out. Because it was. Still. Since apparently, everything was conspiring against them.

“Is he still looking?” Allison asked.

“Yeah,” Lydia said. Stiles was waving. Scott was smiling (kind of). But their faces didn’t seem to give off any surprise. “I don’t think they can see you, though. I’m in the way.”

“Lydia,” Allison moaned, covering her face with her hands. “I literally do not have a shirt on. Please. _Please_ drive.” Lydia didn’t argue, gratuitously slamming her foot onto the gas pedal and tearing down the road.

She wasn’t sure if Stiles and Scott were watching them, and she told herself that she really didn’t care either way. Really. She didn’t.

*

“…Welp.” Scott sunk in his seat, not wanting to hear whatever quip Stiles was rearing up to say, but also not having the heart to tell him to shut up either. “Maybe they just didn’t see us.” Scott resisted the urge to scoff. “Hey, you know why Allison was hunched over like that? I could only see her head.”

“Maybe she was avoiding me.”

“Um…” Stiles didn’t seem to know what to say to that.

The light turned green after what felt like hours and finally, the two college students were on their way to the beach once more. They drove down the lonely road, with Lydia’s car no longer in sight. All Scott could see were trees and stop lights and dark clouds beginning to coalesce in the sky. Concerned, Scott peered up at the clouds for the third time in the course of twenty minutes.

“Wasn’t there supposed to be a big storm coming here or something?” Scott asked, warily eyeing the thick clouds. Stiles shrugged, drumming his fingers to the beat of the radio as he whistled to the pop tune.

“It’s not supposed to hit until, like, tomorrow. By then we’ll be at the beach and out of the storm’s way.” That wasn’t what it was looking like. The sky was darkening by the second, thick clouds squishing together to appear as one thick blanket of condensed water. It _looked_ like the sky was going to release a downpour at any second.

In actuality, it was any minute as, ten minutes later, one fat rain drop hit the center of Stiles’s windshield. The young man jumped a little at the heavy _splat_ before glancing over at Scott.

“One rain drop,” Stiles said, “that doesn’t mean—”

Two more joined their friend on Stiles’s car. Scott raised his brows. Stiles opened his mouth to further defend himself. He was interrupted, however, by two more rain drops, then four more, than eight more, than it was very hard to see through the never ending shower slamming into the glass.

It had started raining. Hard.

Scott opened his mouth to say something.

“Shut up, I don’t want to hear it.” Scott closed his mouth, but couldn’t hold back the smirk from his lips.

The two boys drove through the rain for a little while, though it soon became apparent that this would not be a feasible course of action. For one, visibility was very low. And, Scott learned upon inspecting why his minute foot movements resulted in ‘squelching’ noises, Stiles’s jeep was starting to flood.

“Dude!” Scott exclaimed, eyeing the thin layer of water coating the floor of his friend’s car.

“Aw,” Stiles moaned, “I just vacuumed the ground!”

“I think we have more to worry about than that, Stiles.” Scott lifted his shoes in an attempt to rest them on the dashboard.

“ _Hey, hey, hey!_ ” Stiles swatted at Scott. The jeep skid, tires unable to grip the slick road. After some flailing, screaming, and steering wheel jerking from both Stiles and Scott, the two managed to get the car back on track. Scott turned to Stiles, an expectedly petrified look on his face. “…Sorry.”

“We have to stop,” Scott said, trying his best to sound firm and resolute, but really only succeeding in sounding terrified for his own life. Not that he didn’t have a reason to be scared seeing as they’d almost died a few seconds ago…. Anyway. Stiles pouted, but agreed.

After successfully locating a nearby motel, the two boys made their way to the place they’d stop for the night. Scott gathered his bags and reached for the door handle. He hesitated as he stared at the torrential downpour outside. His shoes would get destroyed out there.

“That looks really bad, doesn’t it?” Stiles asked. Scott nodded.

“It wasn’t supposed to rain yet. Why’d it come early?”

“I’m studying criminal law, not meteorology, so I can’t answer that question.” Scott only had time to give Stiles a withering look when he heard the sounds of tires squealing and screaming.

Now, Stiles had always called Scott the ‘Superman-type’ and for as long as that label had been stapled to him, Scott had adamantly, even vehemently, denied it. He just liked helping people sometimes, that was all. But the moment Scott heard the commotion outside, he forgot all about the rain and the fact that his shoes would get soaked. He forgot about the fact that he could maybe possibly get carried away in what looked like pretty heavy winds. What he cared about was that someone could be hurt and he had to go help them.

So, without thinking, the Stiles-proclaimed-Superman leapt into action, diving out of Stiles’s jeep and rushing towards the scene. Through the thick rain drops, Scott could make out two cars and three people. The cars seemed to be connected, as though one had plowed into the other.

“Hey, are you guys okay?” Scott shouted over the pounding rain. The taller girl, one with long limbs and brown hair sticking to most of her face shook her head frantically as her friend leaned against the car behind her, a hand pressed to her chest. The guy was running shaking hands through his hair.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he was saying as he walked towards the girls. “I lost control of my car, I couldn’t slow down…”

“It’s fine,” the taller one said, though the warble of her voice implied anything but. (She also sounded very familiar, but given the circumstances, Scott decided not to ask about it).

“Are you guys okay, though?” Scott asked, reaching a gentle hand towards the person closest to him, the petite girl. The moment his hand grazed her shoulder, however, the girl’s head snapped to his direction. Scott knew those piercing green eyes.

“ _You_.” Oh. Boy.

“ _Lydia?_ ” Scott asked, jumping back with a slosh. That meant… he turned to the tall brunette who was now staring at him in shock.

“Scott?” Allison asked, brown eyes widening.

“ _Allison_?” Allison’s head whipped to the blonde. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

“Isaac Lahey!?” Wait, Isaac Lahey? As in lacrosse-team-Isaac-Lahey who followed Jackson around like a puppy? Before he could ask for clarification, thunder clapped and the ground shook and everyone couldn’t grab their things and rush into the motel fast enough.

Somehow, Scott wasn’t at all surprised to see that Stiles had already made it inside. He merely scowled as his friend trotted toward him with a little smirk on his face.

“What? Did you expect me to wait outside while you played hero? I’m not as big as you, Scott, that wind was about two seconds from blowing me away.”

“You could’ve at least told me.”

“And end your heroics? Nah, I could never do that.” Lydia, Allison, and Isaac came in before Stiles had even finished talking. “Oh my God,” Stiles said, eyeing the three. They appeared to be in much worse condition than Scott had originally thought—the group as a whole were pale, bruised, and shivering. For a second, he thought about just going to the front desk, booking a room and making a run for it. But…

Shouldering his bag a little higher, Scott swallowed his pride (fear?) and marched towards the newcomers. Lydia’s green eyes cut towards him quickly, cautiously.

“What do you want?” she asked, though the usual edge in her voice was nulled by how much her body shook, how she cradled her arm to her chest as though it were hurt. Scott glanced to Isaac, who had a small gash on his head, then to Allison, who was holding her neck. He considered the option to run to his room and hide once more.

“You guys don’t look good,” Stiles said, materializing beside Scott. “Scott is a biology student. Studying to be a vet, but I’m sure he can handle these injuries no problem, right?” Damn, there went the hiding option. And since when was Stiles into charity? Particularly to people he wasn’t close to?

“We’re fine,” Lydia cut in. “You guys don’t need to worry about us.” And with a sassy wave, Lydia pushed right in between them… but only got a few steps before Scott reached out a hand and caught her wrist. The immediacy of Lydia’s glower almost had him dropping her hand like a hot pan. Almost. She seemed to realize it was Scott who held her and, after a moment, the sharp look in her eyes died down to something less violent. “What are you doing?” Lydia asked calmly. The lacrosse player pointed to Lydia’s thigh.

“You have a cut on your leg. I have bandages.” Lydia’s expression softened some more. Good sign to continue, Scott figured. “I can patch it up for you. Disinfect it and all that.” Lydia stared up at him. He didn’t know what was going through her head mind, which kind of scared him.

“I… thanks,” Lydia said. “I just need to lie down for a second, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I uh…” Scott let her hand go. Lydia smiled in gratitude and then went to go get a key from the desk. After the lady at the front desk handed her one, Lydia turned, eyes searching. They paused. Narrowed in confusion. Scott turned to see what had caught her attention.

Apparently at some point, Stiles had gotten a hold of her suitcase and was innocently drumming his fingers against the handle. When he noticed Lydia’s staring, he smiled.

“I figured you might need some help with your bag,” Stiles replied. Lydia blinked at him. Then she turned.

“Whatever,” she responded robotically and smoothly left the room without another word. Stiles followed after her, lugging the large bag behind him. A beat passed.

That was…odd. It wasn’t like Lydia and Stiles were that great of friends or anything. But whatever, at least someone would be looking after her. Scott turned to look at the remaining two; Isaac and… and Allison.

She looked so small now, not at all like the tall, spirited girl from earlier that day. She was shaking, pained… She just looked so fragile.

“I can take a look at your neck, if it’s hurting you,” Scott found himself saying. Allison blinked up at him, surprised.

“Oh,” she started, “you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, it doesn’t hurt that badly.” She was talking quickly, nervously, and for some reason that made him feel a little bit more sure of himself. At least he wasn’t the only one shitting bricks.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Scott assured her. Apparently, that had been the right thing to say. Allison’s brown eyes met his own and, against his better judgement, Scott smiled. Maybe. He wasn’t yet sure if the lip twitch was just a reaction to the way his heart did an odd flutter in his chest (which could’ve been triggered by anything not related to how pretty Allison’s eyes were).

For a moment, Scott forgot about his resentment towards relationships. He forgot about his reservations about catching feelings for someone. In that moment, Scott was nothing but lost in Allison’s deep eyes, drowning in them, and, for some reason, he felt as though she were lost in his eyes, too…

“I can look at your neck,” a very male voice responded, successfully ending whatever moment had just transpired. Scott blinked, turning to the third party. Isaac. His blue eyes sparkled just a little too much and his smile was just a little too innocent to imply that he didn’t know what he’d just done. But instead of looking bashful, Isaac’s smile merely widened. “It’s not like I’m not familiar with that territory, right, Ally?” The red in Allison’s cheeks told Scott a little too much about that.

“Oh,” Scott stuttered, “I uh…” He had no rebuttal. Allison glared at Isaac, trying to fight her burning cheeks. Isaac responded by smiling flirtatiously back at Allison. It was almost like they were having a (decidedly odd) moment of their own, too. And Scott knew a lot about sexual tension. But when the hell did Isaac and Allison---? Did they ever even---? Why the hell did Isaac keep looking at her like that? “…Should I go?”

“No,” Allison said at the same time Isaac said, ‘yes’. Another glare-smirk off. “ _No_ ,” Allison repeated, louder this time. “You can examine my neck, Scott. It kind of hurts. And I doubt Isaac knows anything about medicine, so…” Isaac glanced at Scott, sniffed.

“You want someone who is studying to treat _dogs_ to be giving you a checkup?”

“Rather that then receive a check up from one.” Isaac blinked.

“That actually, kind of hurt Allison. You’re hanging around Lydia too much.”

“I’ll remember that.” Allison stepped forward, reaching forward for Scott’s hand. “Come on, Scott. We can do the examination in my room.” And, with a glare tossed over to the blinking Isaac, Allison dragged Scott away. The insinuations of the situation were not lost on Scott and as the brunette continued storming down the hallway, he tried thinking of a way to voice his thoughts.

“…When were you and Isaac a thing?” Allison stopped for a second, her glare intensifying as she turned to stare up at Scott.

“We weren’t and we aren’t and we never will be a thing.” A touchy subject.

“Oh. Well. Nevermind.” Allison hesitated and sighed.

“Sorry, Scott. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

“It’s fine. It’s something you don’t want to talk about, it makes sense.”

“I just…” Allison shrugged. “Isaac and I…” Was she going to tell him the backstory? She was. Did Scott want her to?

“You don’t have to tell me,” Scott assured her, “it’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay,” Allison sighed. “It’s not a big deal. Isaac and I made out at a party once. I was buzzed, he was cute… I was just having fun. After that, nothing happened. We didn’t date, we didn’t text. Isaac went on to being a playboy and I went on being a law student-slash-sane person.” Allison met Scott’s inquisitive gaze. “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about that situation or… or about me.” The bashful way she said it made Scott’s heart skip a beat.

This was the time in the conversation when he needed to say something witty and cute, but his mind drew a blank. Luckily, Allison became occupied with examining their whereabouts. They were in a hallway, much like the other ones in the motel as far as Scott could tell. It didn’t look too shabby, but wasn’t something to be found in Forbes either. Or any somewhat high-end magazine in the first place. But whatever, it was a warm and dry place to stay for the night. Even if the lights did flicker every so often.

“…I don’t know where my room is,” Allison finally stated before turning to Scott. “I didn’t get to ask Lydia before she left.” Oh. Well.

“So… what do we do now?” Allison pulled out her cellphone and called Lydia. Or tried to. The call went to voice mail after a few rings, and continued doing so. “What on earth is this girl doing?” Allison muttered under breath as she dialed Lydia’s number again.

While the disappearance of Lydia was a nuisance, the little hunt did seem to bring color back into Allison’s face. More, her breathing had steadied and her shaking slowed. Scott grinned to himself, glad Allison was okay. And the flustered way she dialed Lydia’s number and cursed when she got voicemail again was kind of… cute.

Shit.

He really had it bad for this girl, and the thought scared Scott a little bit more than he wanted to admit.

 

 


End file.
